


A Fitting Life

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Flowers, Fluff, Hanahaki Disease, Illness, M/M, Pining, hanahaki, meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 03:40:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12472656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes he heaved up flowers for minutes. His skin a sickly color, sweat glistening on his skin as he panted for air.He could feel it in him now. When he breathed deeply he could feel the petals tickle his lungs.But it also reminded him of Naruto. As long as he had this flower he would have his love for the blonde boy.He would wait.





	A Fitting Life

**Author's Note:**

> The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned.

Hanahaki disease  
Gaara had seen its effects on people before.  
Back when he was younger, before he had been changed, he saw the effects of it on one of Temari’s friends, Yome.  
Yome had keeled over during one of their games, brilliant blue petals spilling out of her mouth and getting caught by the wind.  
In curiosity, Gaara had crept forward, eyeing the girl suspiciously.  
Temari patted her hard on the back until she stopped. “Hanahaki disease,” Temari stated. “But for who?”  
Yome’s face flushed red a bit. “Shira,” Catching her friend Sen’s gaze she jutted our her bottom lip. “And there’s no way I’m getting it removed! If I do I’ll lose my love for him!”  
Gaara, not truly understanding, lashed out in annoyance. “Just get it removed! Dying over something as pitiful as love is just proof that you deserved it!”  
Temari and the two girls, seemingly just noticing him, took a step back. Sen and Yome apprehensive, as if they might run away. Temari glaring, but unspeaking.  
He swiveled and stomped away, their judging stares making the hair on his neck stand up.  
Why love at all?  
—  
It was only a few months after that, when he had met Naruto Uzumaki.  
It was his first time out of his village and his first time in another. At least the people here didn’t regard him as a demon, a killer, a monster.  
His first impression of Naruto was nothing special. A blonde, idiotic boy with too much to say and too much to do. In a flurry he had declared that he would beat Gaara in the upcoming Chuunin exams, although Gaara’s sights were on the Uchiha boy alone.  
Uchiha Sasuke, the sole survivor of his clan. He had heard stories of the eyes they possessed as a child. A crimson iris and the ability to calculate your opponent’s every move. He had no need to study anyone but the Uchiha.  
The first time Gaara had ever truly seen Naruto was during their fight. His unwavering blue gaze and his determination had somehow seen into Gaara’s bloodstained soul and mended it. He was a fellow jinchuriki, with a past of pain and a future of struggle, and yet he had hope. He had dreams.  
Naruto Uzumaki was a truly interesting character.  
It was after that day, before the funeral of the third Hokage, that Gaara had probably fallen in love with Naruto.  
He and his siblings were heading out when Naruto had run up to them, tripping over his own feet.  
“Oi, Gaara!”  
Gaara’s head snapped back, his eyes heavy, but he relaxed upon seeing the familiar blonde.  
“Have a safe journey.” Naruto panted, then straightening up he stuck out his hand.  
Gaara stared at it in confusion for a moment. Did he want Gaara to give him something? Naruto caught his confused gaze and laughed, “I guess you’re not one for handshakes then!”  
Gaara, not finding the humor in the situation, laughed anyways. One single laugh, a bit scratchy, and not entirely genuine, but it seemed to make Naruto happy. It was progress towards making friends, he told himself. He could feel Temari and Kankuro’s bewildered stares as he not only talked with Naruto, but treated him with respect. How could he not want to be friends with someone so charming, and his endearing whiskers.  
Naruto saluted Gaara, “If we meet again, make sure to address me as Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village-ttebayo!”  
He had picked up on that strange quirk the more he talked to the fellow jinchuriki, his tendency to add “dattebayo” to every other sentence he spoke. Gaara considered saying it as well, wondering if it would help him seem as lighthearted as Naruto.  
Realizing he had been staring at Naruto, Gaara stepped back, feeling his face heat up a bit and not for the first time.  
“Goodbye,” Gaara breathed “Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village-ttebayo.”  
Naruto’s grin was blinding. It was sunshine and warmth and love. It was everything Gaara had ever wanted.  
—  
Three days later it began. He had woke up having a coughing fit. His siblings, who he was still trying to mend his relationship with, could care less if he was choking.  
He felt something in the back of his throat, and in a final attempt he coughed it out. It fluttered onto his bedsheet.  
Curious and concerned, Gaara inspected it. A petal.  
Gaara had slipped the petal into his pocket and lay back down. His dream came back to him in flashes. Konoha. Running. Naruto.  
It was the same dream he had been having since he met Naruto. Something about him and Naruto running to get somewhere. They could never reach their destination, though.  
In a moment of terror the petal came back into his thoughts. He had coughed up a petal, a sight of what could be a life threatening disease. Hanahaki disease. Caused by unrequited love, where a flower grows in your lungs. Symptoms were coughing or throwing up petals.  
Gaara jumped out of his bed and wandered through his house. Living under his father’s roof had benefits, such as having a medical room down the hall. He padded through the hallway, hoping that no one would be awake at this hour. When he saw the room he opened the door quietly.  
Entering the cold room, a wave of clean smelling air hit him, and he welcomed it, trying to wake up his senses.  
He weaved his way around the medical table and glancing at the bookshelf he skimmed the titles until he found one on various sicknesses.  
He let flipped through until he got to the “H” section.  
Hanahaki disease. The definition exactly as he remembered. A flower that grows in your lungs due to unrequited love. Coughing up petals is the most common symptom. Getting the flower removed will also remove your feelings for the other, but letting the flower remain will allow it to grow, which leads to suffocation.  
Pulling the petal out of his pocket, he studied it. It was yellow and very ruffled, with a jagged edge.  
He pulled a similar book off the shelf, the tattered pages containing information on various types of flowers. He skimmed through until he encountered what it seemed to be. A yellow carnation.  
“A flower of sadness and rejection.”  
What a fitting description for someone such as himself.  
—  
He was lucky. Yellow carnations took a long time to grow, so he had lots of time. Three years until full bloom.  
He was also unlucky. Almost three years had passed, and it had only gotten worse and worse.  
The petals were constant, every hour or so he would rush to the bathroom, desperately trying to hide the secret from everyone, although that was futile. Rumors had spread that he had Hanahaki disease, and someone had witnessed it, only fanning the flames of gossip.  
His siblings knew, and so did the village elders.  
He had become Kazekage after so much pushing and working. He was known and respected and, to his utmost joy, he was loved.  
The council had demanded that he get it removed, telling him that he was the Kazekage now, and letting himself die over this would be a disaster.  
Gaaa told them he would. He said it had only been going on for a year. He lied.  
Temari encouraged him to confess to who he loved, then he would not only be cured, but he would have a happy lover. After all, according to her, “Who wouldn’t be thrilled to know that the Kazekage was in love with them?” But it wasn’t so simple. Naruto had left Konoha years ago, and when he would return was unclear. But Gaara would wait.  
Sometimes he heaved up flowers for minutes. His skin a sickly color, sweat glistening on his skin as he panted for air.  
He could feel it in him now. When he breathed deeply he could feel the petals tickle his lungs.  
But it also reminded him of Naruto. As long as he had this flower he would have his love for the blonde boy.  
He would wait.  
—  
Gaara’s head ached. Cold winds battered him and he couldn’t feel the ground. His lungs constricted and he followed the breathing technique Kankuro had taught him. Suck in huge breaths, let them out very slow.  
When he was sure he wouldn’t break into a coughing hysteria he cracked open his eyes. He was miles up, being carried by some sort of white bird of immense size. His head lolled and pounded, and he tried to readjust himself to no avail.  
The memories came back slowly, in little sections. He was fighting someone... they had blonde hair, Naruto? No. They had sent explosives toward the village, he had moved it... somehow. He made himself a sphere.. it blew up? Yes, Gaara had been beaten. It was the Akatsuki. The blonde one. His name was Deidara, he made explosives out of clay.  
It came back to him slowly in pieces, but he eventually managed to get his mind together.  
Suddenly his lungs constricted again, he gagged on the petals, and they spilled out his his mouth, a seemingly endless stream of yellow swept away by the wind.  
The whole flight, which went on for an eternity, he continued retching, sometimes nothing, sometimes petals. His time was near.  
He went to summon some sand but faltered. His sand was gone, and miles high he wouldn’t be able to reach any. He was helpless. Hopeless. Alone.  
But not truly alone.  
A voice from atop the clay bird sang, the sound nearly whipped away by the wind. Deidara.  
“We were born in the valley of the dead and the wicked”  
Gaara coughed again.  
“That our father's father found  
And where we laid him down”  
He couldn’t bring in enough air.  
“We were born in the shadow of the crimes of our fathers”  
He was getting tunnel vision now, and Gaara supposed it would be a good way to die.  
“Blood was our inheritance”  
Death by love.  
“No, we did not ask for this”  
—  
The bird was descending now, the singing long since stopped. Gaara opened his eyes a bit, squinting from the light. From this angle he had to twist his head to see the ground. In a shock he realized they had only been flying a few feet above the ground the whole time. Next to them chugged along some sort of creature with dead eyes. He felt the familiar tightness in his lungs. The coughing fits more frequent and his breath more shallow.  
But something went wrong. The bird released it’s grip on Gaara, sending him sprawling into the hard ground, rocks jabbing and scraping at him as he flung out his arms to brace himself.  
Deidara swore and the bird swiveled, the hunched figure that travelled with them spun around, it’s accusing eyes focused on something behind Gaara.  
Gaara, weak and exhausted, but not beaten, turned to look too.  
A crowd of people.  
The person above him extended a hand down to him, the sun’s glare hiding his face.  
Gaara put his hand in the stranger’s and hesitated, unsure if they were friend or foe, but giving in, knowing his shallow breathing would kill him soon anyways.  
“Oi, this is no time for handshakes-ttebayo!” A rough voice said.  
Naruto.  
Gaara couldn’t get air in, his head was spinning.  
In that moment a band of Shinobi surged forward, attacking his captors, but Naruto stayed put, his hand holding Gaara’s gently. “You okay, Gaara?”  
Gaara opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t get anything in. He sucked on air but something blocked it, stuffing up his lungs and throat.  
“Gaara?!” Naruto’s voice grew hysterical. “Why aren’t you breathing?”  
In response to the blockage Gaara retched and gagged, weakly coughing out a few petals. The rest were lodged inside. Panic seized him as he breathed in grape sized amounts of air.  
Naruto smacked Gaara’s back, sending a few more petals flying out and pulled him into his chest. “Damn it Gaara! Why didn’t you get the flower removed you idiot!” Naruto cradled Gaara to his chest as he watched the shinobi fight off the two Akatsuki, his fingers tightly twisted into the fabric of Gaara’s shirt. “Kakashi! Gaara’s dying!”  
Gaara, in a weak last attempt reached up and placed a hand on Naruto’s face, cupping it gently and admiring Naruto like a piece of fine art. After all this time he was still so bright and loveable.  
“Naruto..” he managed weakly, “it’s you.”  
Naruto let out a sobbing sort of laugh. “Yeah, I’m back now.”  
Gaara shook his head weakly, that wasn’t what he was trying to get at.  
“I love... you.”  
Gaara studied Naruto’s face, hoping and pleading for Naruto to admit his love for Gaara too, to end this horrible flower curse, to save him.  
Naruto’s brows creased. His eyes a dark mix of confusion and resentment.  
“No,” Naruto whispered, leaning back a bit. “No, Gaara, you can’t love me, don’t do this.”  
A swirling storm of heartbreak unleashed in Gaara. He had been rejected, his story would end in tragedy after all.  
“But.. why?” Gaara wheezed, a petal fluttering from his lips.  
Naruto said nothing, but cast his eyes down, then inhaled sharply. Naruto’s body shook as he coughed, and to the horror of Gaara, a single blue petal swirled to the ground.  
“Sasuke,” Gaara said, in an understanding way. He knew from the look in the blonde’s eyes that he guessed right.  
Gaara was struggling for air now, his lungs were full of petals, and no air came in. His eyes bloodshot as he gaped like a fish out of water. Naruto pulled Gaara into him again as his vision faded. He felt his consciousness slipping as he realized that his life was ending the way it had began, it was ending with him never being loved. What a fitting death for someone such as himself.


End file.
